


fix you

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Affection, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cisco gets his shoulder rub, First Time, Harry is the most awkward smooth person, M/M, Massages, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seduction, implied polyamory, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:19:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: “Lavender,” Harry says when he realizes Cisco is watching him with curiosity. “It’s supposed to be relaxing. That’s what the girl at the store said.”“Next thing I know you’re gonna be pulling out music and massage oils.”Harry looks at the ceiling. Cisco’s tongue grows two sizes, throbbing in time with his heart and want.“You brought music and massage oils?”(Harry gives Cisco a massage. Set after 4x15.)





	fix you

**Author's Note:**

> this is pornography, y'all. cynco is established but cindy is fully on-board/has given both cisco and harry her blessing for harrisco.

It’s difficult for Cisco to join in the Hooray, We Saved The Day celebration when his shoulder is still on fire. The burn is molecule deep, vibrating in time with all of his energy and all of his aches. He smiles himself to his workshop and flops in a chair. When he tries to work at the pain with his other hand, it only manages to inflame his other irritations.

Cisco groans. He lets his head lull over the chair, plastic pushing just above the first knob of his spine, pressing his tension flat. He really does need a massage. Maybe fifteen. Or maybe he just needs one more breach, opening up into a nice, steaming hot spring with someone willing to soothe his skin. Cindy, if she’s not busy, or…

“There you are,” Harry says from the doorway. Cisco closes his eyes against every thought he doesn’t want to have. “We’re going for food.”

“I think I’m gonna take a rain check. I just wanna pass out for a little while.”

Footsteps echo, but they get closer, not father. Cisco frowns. When he looks up, Harry is hovering over him, wrinkles carved deep and handsome.

“Have you eaten today?”

“I think so?” Cisco answers honestly. He doesn’t remember. Sighing, he shifts, sitting up straighter. A bite under his shoulder blades makes him wince. He tries to lift it and twist, pop or stretch something, but it doesn’t ease anything.

“Shoulders still bothering you?”

Cisco rolls them in an attempt to relieve his tension. “Yeah. Opening that many breaches… It’s the same as any other exercise. Or so I’ve read. I’m shredding everything from the inside. Just need some time to heal up.”

Harry brings his hands from his pockets. They hover, awkward and clumsy in the air, before settling flat on his sides. His fingers twitch. Cisco doesn’t have the energy to decipher Harry’s nervous movements. 

“You did good work today.”

Cisco’s lips hitch, mouth half hooked on Harry's praise. “You didn’t do so bad yourself.” 

“I guess I didn’t,” Harry says, smiling back. “But I didn’t nearly tear myself apart to do it.”

Harry’s hands lift again. He smooths his shirt down before fumbling back into his pockets. Before Cisco can ask if Harry’s developed some sort of tick or just had too much caffeine, Harry asks a question of his own. 

“Anything I can do to help?”

Cisco blinks. “No. I mean, I just need some Advil and sleep. Unless you wanna give me a shoulder rub - ”

“I can.”

Harry cuts in so efficiently, precisely, the offer glides without any awkwardness. Which is awkward in itself, where Harry is considered. He’s never smooth.

Cisco blinks again.

“I mean,” Harry says, shrugging, spine curling in on itself, and there’s the emotionally clumsy nerd that Cisco adores. “If you want. Only if you want. But I’m pretty good at massages.”

“I’m sure you are,” Cisco says, unsure of what else to say. A massage sounds heavenly, and he can’t imagine his aches would feel anything less than relieved under Harry’s strong hands. He isn’t sure his enjoyment of it would be quite so pure as Harry’s motivations in offering. “It’s cool. Thanks, though.”

Harry shifts on his feet, hesitant. His hands turn into fists around his pockets.

“It’s really no trouble. And you’re obviously hurting. I could help you out.”

The edge of Harry’s insistence feels - not necessarily desperate, but eager. Hopeful in a way that Cisco’s only heard in Harry’s voice when Harry is offering something for Cisco’s approval. 

Cisco squints. He tries to see what Harry is laying out for him. What Harry wants him to take.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Cisco says, soft and teasing. “I’d think you were trying to seduce me.” 

Every part of Harry, including his breath, freezes. Cisco’s fingers curl around his chair rests. All of Harry’s pushing, Harry’s pulling away, echo in Cisco’s head. He considers the last time he and Cindy spoke Harry’s name.

 _I told him, you know_ , Cindy had said, smile red and pretty. _That you were free to do what you wanted_.

But Harry hadn’t moved around him much differently since then. The shoulder touches had lasted a little longer, and he’d been a little freer with his vulnerability, but nothing devastating. Nothing that definitively read _I want to be something you want_ enough for Cisco to risk the closest friend he has these days. 

“I’m just trying to do something nice for you,” Harry finally says.

Guilt tightens Cisco’s spine. It twists his already burning muscles and he decides, fuck it. If this makes Harry feel better, then Cisco will vibe up an emotional divide between Harry’s warmth and his own lust. He doesn’t have to make this weird.

“Thanks, man. It does sound good.”

Harry’s head snaps. The same brightness of surprise and joy that lit up his features when Cisco offered to be his test subject appears. Cisco’s smile up to him is genuine. 

Cisco leans his head forward before swiping his hair to the side, giving Harry the room he needs to work. Harry’s palms settle around his shoulders the way they have at least one hundred times before. Cisco has a moment of sighing into the comfort of them before Harry’s fingers knead into his skin.

Hard. 

“Ah,” Cisco says, tensing. “A little easier on the merchandise, okay?”

“Okay. Sorry. I just - gentler. Got it.” 

Cisco tries to relax into Harry’s next movements. Even though his grip isn’t as sharp, he seems to hit every point that doesn’t crave pressure. It’s uncomfortable when it’s not painful, and Harry isn’t missing pain entirely. His thumbnails find Cisco’s sorest points and his palms press roughly on Cisco’s shoulder blades.

Tension sets Cisco’s muscles into concrete. He tries not to complain, or make pained noises, or twitch away, but it’s involuntary when Harry keeps wrenching at his softest parts. Every time he expresses obvious discomfort, Harry’s panic seems to flare. Harry apologizes more in the few minutes that pass than Cisco has heard in the past three years. 

“Okay,” Cisco says, finally, when Harry pinches something that makes Cisco’s eyes water. “That’s - I feel so much better already man.” 

“Liar,” Harry huffs. “Just let me try again - ”

Cisco turns in his chair, swiveling his shoulders away from Harry’s touch. He puts up his palms. 

“No. It’s really fine. Thank you.”

Harry frowns. “I didn’t help you.” 

“Well. No. I don’t know who told you that you were good at that but, uh. You have a lot of other really great skills.”

Frustration pulls Harry’s mouth tight. Despite himself, Cisco laughs. Harry crosses his arms. 

“It’s nice that you wanted to make me feel better. I appreciate the effort. But I really just want to sleep.”

Harry looks like he wants to say something else, offer to try again, but he hesitates with his tongue peeking between his lips. He smooths a hand through his hair. 

“You can use my cot, if you want.”

The offer shocks Cisco even further out of balance. He tries to nod his appreciation. “Thanks, but. I kind just wanna crash in my own place. You’ll call me, though, if you need me?”

Harry nods tightly. “Of course.”

Cisco resists the urge to hug Harry goodbye.

-

The next time Harry offers to massage his shoulders, Cisco almost forgets how terrible the first time was to say yes immediately. Another fight, more bruises, more sundered muscles with no super healing to ease them. Cisco is wincing through some arm stretches when Harry pokes into his space.

“I’m good,” Cisco eventually answers, even though he’s obviously not, even though his back groans for comfort. He’s not going to find it under Harry’s hands.

Harry levels his still racing heart with a flat stare. “I’ve done some research since last time. I can guarantee a better experience.” 

“You've done some research?” Cisco repeats, eyebrow raised.

“You can learn pretty much anything on this Earth’s YouTube.”

Cisco laughs. His very delirious brain finds it very deliriously adorable that Harry would take the time to study this. He’s becoming a better friend everyday. Cisco is so proud. 

He’s going to tell Harry as much when Harry adds, “And I have supplements now.”

Something like shock and panic and hope curl in Cisco’s throat, making it difficult to breathe. “Supplements?” 

Harry doesn’t elaborate. Instead he leans closer, not by much, nothing that would appear out of the ordinary to the rest of the team, but his voice is ocean low and deep.

“Breach us to your place? I promise this time will be better.” 

Cisco believes him, instantly. Heat flares up his spine then settles in his stomach. Harry’s eyes are sure.

“Okay,” Cisco says. 

-

They make some excuse to the gang; Cisco barely hears his own words before sundering spacetime so he and Harry can step into his apartment. He lands on both feet. Harry comes through right behind him, shifting his duffle on his shoulders. Cisco didn’t ask what was in it. Supplements, he assumes, and takes a deep breath.

“Where should we do this?” Cisco asks, speaking past the cotton thrills in his mouth. He’s trying not to give in to a heat that might not bloom, but it’s difficult when Harry is looking not at him but into him, past his clothing, into his need. “Couch? Table?” 

He doesn’t say the last option. Harry takes care of it for him. 

“Bed,” Harry says. Red rises immediately on his cheeks. “If that’s okay. It’ll be most comfortable. For you, I mean.” 

Cisco nods. He makes his way to the bed, feeling Harry’s body heat behind him. When he gets to the side, he hesitates. He doesn’t think he’s reading anything wrong. The idea of revealing his skin, his deepest vulnerability, to Harry’s touch, makes his hair stand on end and blood rush.

He toes off his shoes and waits for Harry to tell him to stop. When all Harry does is watch him, attention sharp, he unzips his vibe jacket.

“How much do you want me to take off, Mr. Masseuse? I don’t wanna distract you from doing your job with all of this.” Cisco accentuates the words with a roll of his hips, meant to ease the tension. It doesn’t. 

Harry adjusts his glasses. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Ramon. But it’s easier if - the less you have on, the more I can reach.”

Cisco would be comfortable naked, if Harry was too. He can’t quite vibe out how much clothing either of them are going to end up in, though, so he focuses on undoing his suspenders. Harry keeps watching him until he pulls at his shirt.

Then Harry sets the duffel down. He mumbles for Cisco to keep going while he unzips the bag, pulling out two candles and a lighter. Cisco looks around for hidden cameras as he lets his shirt fall to the floor. But there’s nothing, just Harry, fully focused on arranging the candles on Cisco’s nightstand.

“Lavender,” Harry says when he realizes Cisco is watching him with curiosity. “It’s supposed to be relaxing. That’s what the girl at the store said.”

“Next thing I know you’re gonna be pulling out music and massage oils.”

Harry looks at the ceiling. Cisco’s tongue grows two sizes, throbbing in time with his heart and want.

“You brought music and massage oils?”

“Not oils. Plural.” Harry picks at something invisible on his shirt. “And there were some mixes at the store but I didn’t think you’d like any. Plus it’s raining. I thought that would - you always say the sound of rain calms you. I could get something if you - ”

“No,” Cisco says quickly. His fingers keep slip sliding on his pants. Nerves at being half nude in Harry’s presence, at how much it feels like he’s taking off more than fabric and showing more than skin, at how deeply Harry knows him, have his desire twisting his stomach into knots. He forgets how to breathe around Harry’s earnest tension.

Harry looks away from him again. He stands still, just for a moment, as anxious as Cisco’s heart pounds, before moving back to the duffel.

“Just - whenever you’re comfortable, just lay on the bed.”

Cisco manages to push down his tick tack anticipation and push down his pants. He considers leaving his underwear on, but Harry brought scented candles. Whatever doubts Cisco had nights before, whatever hesitation had made Harry's hand clumsy, has melted. Cisco can't imagine scented candles meaning anything other than Boyz II Men style seduction.

Nude, Cisco slides onto the bed. He snuggles under the sheet, covered from the hips down, the rest of him wrapped only in soft, eager breathing.

“I’m ready,” he says, voice muffled by the pillows.

Harry releases a deep breath. Cisco doesn’t know if he’s turned to see Cisco stripped down further than he imagined, or maybe if he wasn't expecting the sheet, or if he’s attempting to steel himself against whatever is going to unfold. Cisco doesn’t have much time to ponder. The heavy sound of Harry’s boots moving across the floor fill the apartment. Then the bed is dipping at Cisco’s side.

There’s a moment of hesitation before Harry’s fingers slip through his hair. “Anything you don’t - that doesn’t feel good. Just tell me.”

Cisco twists his head, catching Harry’s gaze. “I will,” he promises.

Harry sweeps his hair to the side, letting his touch linger over Cisco’s neck until Cisco’s eyes drift closed. The softness of Harry’s touch eases Cisco into the mattress. He’s drifted so far away from the pain of the day already that he barely notices Harry’s lips brushing the back of his head.

“This is lavender too,” Harry says softly, pulling away to reach for the bottle. “With tea tree oil. It’s supposed to be soothing. Tell me if it’s not, okay?”

“Okay.”

The oil isn’t cold. It’s as warm as skin and when Harry palms it gently over his shoulders, Cisco can’t help but sink into the mattress with a low, messy moan. The aroma of calm wafts over him; air before the rain, sleep heat, earth. It’s the candle and the oil and maybe Harry himself, lulling Cisco into steady breaths and peace.

“Oh,” Cisco can’t help but say when Harry sweeps his hand down Cisco’s spine.

Harry’s touch is firm but only with confidence. There’s no punishment or bite in his fingers. Whatever research Harry did, it paid the fuck off. This experience is already 1000% better than the first.

“Good?” Harry whispers.

“Bitchin’,” Cisco answers. He swears he can hear Harry smile.

Once Harry has his skin coated, eased ready for pleasure, Harry reaches for more oil. Cisco takes the break from Harry’s touch to watch the candles flicker. The small flames and the low twilight are the only light in the apartment. Their softness mingles with the pat of rain outside.

Harry’s hands return with a fresh slide of lavender. Cisco feels wax malleable, drizzling down into something liquid and wanton.

“How many videos did you watch?” Cisco moans, melting boneless into Harry’s touch.

Harry doesn’t answer immediately, focusing instead on anchoring the heels of his palms under Cisco’s shoulder blades and making slow, firm circles. Cisco feels his muscles throb. There’s a little pain, still, but it’s his knots straining under Harry’s pressure. After a few more stubborn caresses, they start to fall apart.

“Enough,” Harry says eventually. “I may have read a book, too.” 

“A book?”

Harry’s palms slide into the pain between Cisco’s neck and shoulders. Cisco groans. “And a few articles. And taken a few continuing ed classes in massage therapy.”

That’s a lot of progress for two weeks. But Harry completes tasks, and this was important to him, apparently. Doing this for Cisco was important to him. It makes Cisco’s heart curl against his muscles, warmed, and his chest aches to show Harry exactly how much he appreciates the sentiment. Cisco is too overwhelmed by the action to do much more than moan his appreciation.

“Your molecules don’t self repair like a speedsters,” Harry says, thumbs working into a particularly cruel knot. “I know we’re going to push you again. I’m sorry. But we’re going to find some way to make it not so hard on you.” 

“If this is going to be my hero’s reward, I won’t mind so much,” Cisco says honestly.

Harry’s fingers pause. “You’ve earned more than some comfort. But I’m not that altruistic.” 

Cisco hides his grin. “So you are trying to seduce me?”

Harry’s hands sweep down his biceps, kneading the skin gently. Cisco’s arms sing out. He hadn’t even realized how sore they were. Tension he didn’t realize he was holding is coaxed out under Harry’s clever touch. 

The worn soft fabric of Harry’s shirt rubs along Cisco’s back. He doesn’t know why that, mingled with Harry’s cologne, has his dick filling against the mattress more quickly than everything else, but it does. Cisco has to bite his lip against Harry’s mouth against his hairline.

“Is it working?” Harry asks, and he sounds genuine. Not altogether confident or steady, but still teasing. Mostly hopeful.

Cisco lifts his chin. He can’t really move his arms - they’re dead, pleasant weight as Harry continues to rub them - but he doesn’t need a physical touch to drag Harry’s mouth to his. Harry follows the pant of his open mouth into an easy, unhurried press of lips.

“I’m not that easy,” Cisco whispers. 

Harry’s smiling when he pulls away. “I’ll have to pull out the big guns, then.”

Cisco settles back into the pillows as Harry pumps a few more handfuls of oil. His hands settle on the small of Cisco’s back, thumbs sinking into Cisco’s dimples and throbbing sore. 

“Not so hard,” Cisco says when Harry digs deeper.

The ache is canyon deep in his lower back, but the layer of muscle over it is thin at best. Harry takes the direction immediately. He brings his knuckles over the tension but rolls them to slow rhythm of the rain. It’s perfect.

Cisco tells him as much as his fingers slide under the pillows. Shivers and rolling waves of heat kiss the trail Harry’s touch leaves. Lust has him throbbing with no sense of urgency against the bed. He has the urge to rock his hips, relieve some tension, but he embraces the slow burn of pleasure.

It pays off when Harry eases the comforter down.

Harry curses low. His breathing speeds and doesn’t stop, even when he releases the the sheet over the back of Cisco’s knees. Cisco feels as exposed as a sample. Harry’s gaze is softer than cold, clinical observation, but Cisco still shudders under it.

“You’re,” Harry starts. Cisco doesn’t need to see him to know Harry is wrestling with that ugly thing that tells him not to speak his feelings out loud. The thing that says he doesn’t deserve the softness he feels or to have it embraced back. “You’re gorgeous.”

Cisco’s fingers scratch the sheet. “You don’t have to do that.”

“State facts?” Harry says, and there’s a hint of annoyance that makes Cisco feel right at home. “I told you. Modesty is unbecoming. You’re beautiful. Deal with it.”

Cisco laughs until his throat closes on a pant. Harry’s touch glides over his lower back again before sliding down, settling warm over the swell of his ass. Cisco can’t help but rock into the pressure.

Harry keeps massaging. A new, bottomless wave of lust sensitizes Cisco’s skin. There’s a tight, breathless string of heat, pulling his chest and cock tight. Every brush of pressure over his ass makes him press into the softness below, the gentleness above. Something low and needy spills from his throat.

The tips of Harry’s thumbs sweep closer to the hottest part of him. He doesn’t need to vibe to hear the question. With a deep breath, he slides one knee out and up, spreading himself for whatever Harry wants. Harry’s touch falters.

Harry leans over him, pressing his mouth over Cisco’s again, but more insistent. Sloppier and more eager. Cisco smiles against him.

It’s when Harry’s tongue drags easy over Cisco’s bottom lip that the tips of Harry’s fingers slip inside of him. Cisco gasps into Harry’s mouth.

The slide of it is easy, despite the fact that it’s been weeks since Cisco’s been touched here, and the way Harry sinks inside of him with no resistance, makes Cisco arch into the pressure. Cisco’s body is butter soft and warm and Harry’s slick enough with oil that one thumb glides in knife clean.

“Fuck, Harry. That’s perfect.” Cisco settles his weight onto his knees, ready to surge up, take Harry deeper. “More.”

Harry’s other hand pets over his hip. “Slow down,” he says. “Just let me keep taking care of you.” 

Cisco balks a little at Harry’s words, the low tone and the idea that he needs any sort of care taking, but Harry rubs soothing circles into his skin while continuing to work him open. All of Harry’s movements match the molasses glide of the massage. As much as Cisco wants to get off, he doesn’t want to disrupt the easy pace. 

He settles back into the mattress. Harry stretches to kiss his considerably soothed shoulders. Cisco sighs into the brush of intimacy then whines into the empty of Harry sliding his thumb away. Almost immediately, two slick fingers are replacing it, gliding into Cisco as simple as anything. 

Cisco takes the welcome pressure by spreading himself wider. Harry isn’t in any hurry. He works his fingers in, down to the knuckle, giving Cisco a chance to breathe around the pleasant stretch. Once Cisco flutters around him, urging him silently to move, to fuck him, to do it, come on, Harry twists. He rocks shallow in, shallow around, rubs until he finds the place that has Cisco crying out.

“Did you learn this - ah, god damn - in those videos, Harry? In your class?”

Harry kisses along his spine, pressing open mouthed against every knob until he gently scrapes his teeth over Cisco’s most tender flesh. Cisco reaches one hand down to pet against Harry’s hair. It’s soft.

“No,” is all Harry says before pressing against Cisco’s sparking spot. There’s no mercy in his touch. “Lift up.”

Cisco thought he was supposed to relax. He rolls his eyes instead of arguing, though, and is honestly thrilled with his ability to choose his battles. Harry scissors his fingers and licks along Cisco’s thigh then up, pressing his tongue flat over Cisco’s balls.

“Holy - Hannah - shit.”

Harry’s smile is obvious against skin. Cisco wants to say something, make Harry work a little harder for his smug satisfaction, but then Harry is sucking wet and messy at the skin between his legs and Cisco decides he’ll knock Harry off his high horse some other time. For now he aches between Harry’s mouth and fingers.

That hot, familiar tightness starts to pool in all of Cisco’s molecules. He feels ready to vibe right out of his skin. But his dick is straining, kissing flushed and full against his own stomach, and he needs. He needs Harry to touch him, suck him, just brush knuckles against the blood hot head of his cock. He needs a little more and he knows, he knows, Harry will give it to him, but he doesn’t know when. 

Harry licks back to his shaking thighs. Cisco curses him until he eases his fingers away, too. Then Cisco wants to cry.

“Turn over,” Harry urges.

Cisco flips onto his back fast as a speedster. Harry licks his lips. He takes a moment to coat his fingers again, three this time, and noses along Cisco’s hip.

“You feel so good around me,” Harry pants. Cisco hadn’t realized how wrecked Harry was over wrecking him, but now that he can see Harry face to face, see the red staining Harry’s skin and how wildly his chest is beating, Cisco feels pride heat his body. “I didn’t think - I didn’t let myself want you for so long, Cisco. I didn’t think I could have this.”

Cisco runs his nails over Harry’s scalp, watching in fascination as Harry’s eyes drift closed. “Me either,” he admits. “But we can. Whatever we want. Whatever you want.”

When Harry looks at him again, there’s no question in his eyes. “Everything. I want everything.”

Harry slides his middle and index fingers into Cisco again, and it’s as easy as coming home. Cisco’s legs spread and he’s so loose, worked so wide and wet, that Cisco knows he could take more. Could take Harry’s dick spreading him full. But all Harry does is work his fingers almost all the way out, then press three lazily back inside.

Cisco groans against the added pressure. His fingers curl into all that floppy hair and tug, mostly because he can’t help it, but Harry reads it as another direction entirely. Flashing a grin, he laps at the wet already gathered on Cisco’s dick. Cisco says his name like he’s drowning, and Harry swallows him down. 

Cisco’s a mess between Harry’s mouth and fingers. Harry sucks him and fucks him with gentle but ruthless efficiency. All of Cisco’s tension, all of his aches, all of his hurts from metas and heroes and best friends are forgotten. He comes apart under Harry with panting, elated breaths.

Harry doesn’t stop until Cisco has to physically pull him away. Once Harry slides off his dick with a pop, Harry is sliding up the bed, feeding Cisco the taste of his moans and come.

As they kiss, Cisco forces one of his pleasure slack hands to work its way between Harry’s legs. He palms over the fire hot line of Harry’s dick. Harry spills of all his want into Cisco’s open mouth.

“You don’t have to,” Harry pants, sounding strained. The crinkles around his eyes dig molten core deep. “I wasn’t asking for anything. This was about you.”

“That’s nice, Harry,” Cisco says, tugging at Harry’s pants. “Now let me suck your cock.”

Miraculously, Harry doesn’t argue. He nearly trips over himself to undress, pulling his shoes and socks off then pushing off his pants and boxers. The shirt stays, because apparently there’s no time to yank it off. Cisco would shake the molecules of it apart if he didn’t think Harry would bitch at him for destroying one of his only thirteen black shirts. 

Harry settles against the headboard. Cisco wants to tease him, stretch it languid and lavender lovely the way Harry did, but Harry is a creature of need and now. He wouldn’t appreciate the gentility, would read it as torture instead of pleasure.

Cisco does kiss him again. Curls a hand around his dick while sucking pink against his neck and thigh. He nips at the crease of Harry’s hip and thigh while twisting his hand. Harry fucks into his touch with a low, strained Ramon. Cisco licks a wet line between Harry’s balls and rubs his thumb over Harry’s leaking slit. Harry’s fingers sink into his hair. 

Merciful, Cisco sucks at the head of Harry’s dick. He learns the weight of Harry, the taste of him, the earth rich smell of him, before sliding deeper. 

“Cisco,” Harry pants, as open as Cisco has ever heard him. “Need you - faster.”

Cisco gives Harry what he needs, is more than happy to, especially when it makes Harry sigh his name again. He makes sure to work his tongue in time with every suck. Harry arches his back and pulls, firm but not hard, on Cisco’s hair.

“Your tongue. Your mouth. Cisco, your - ”

Harry either doesn’t finish his sentence or Cisco misses his words over the blood in his ears. It doesn’t matter. Harry spills in Cisco’s mouth with a final, heavy shout.

Cisco eases away with a deep sigh of satisfaction. He falls onto his back, calm to every muscle and nerve ending that’s been rubbed raw. His body feels gentled empty then relieved with peace. Absolutely nothing hurts.

“That was the best massage I’ve ever gotten.”

Exhausted as his side, Harry laughs.

“Come here,” Cisco says, unable to urge with his voice or hands. Harry slips down to lie next to him then rolls to his side, bringing them face to face. Cisco pets his jaw. “Thank you.”

Harry slides a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. “Least I could do for Central City’s greatest hero.”

Cisco rolls his eyes. He keeps brushing his fingers over Harry’s cheeks. Harry doesn’t bat his touch away.

“You really are,” Harry says, suddenly and oddly earnest. “Everything I say, I mean. A hero. Gorgeous. Brilliant.”

“You too,” Cisco says back, uncomfortable under Harry’s laser focus. “Although I’d probably go with ruggedly handsome over gorgeous, but - ”

His phone rings, Barry’s tone, and Cisco groans under an entirely different overwhelming swell. Before Harry can say anything, Cisco leans over his body, searching for his pants.

He doesn’t let Barry speak when he first answers. “Is this life or death?”

A beat. “Uh, no. It’s not an emergency. Iris and I were just - ”

“Barry, I adore you, but if the city isn’t crumbling, I’m gonna need you to give me twenty four hours, okay? Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Tell Iris I love her more than you.”

Barry says something, but Cisco doesn’t care. He’s too tired and full of satisfaction. He hangs up.

Harry is watching him with a tilted head.

Sheepish pink pulls Cisco's skin tight. Harry has no room to judge. “I know that was rude - ”

“I’m not really the best person to judge what’s polite and not,” Harry says, smile bright as his eyes. “I was just wondering what exactly your plans for the next twenty four hours are.”

As Cisco rolls in to show him, the phone rings again. This time, Harry answers it.

“Hi Allen.”

Cisco’s eyebrows reach high. He has to put his palm over his mouth when he hears Barry’s low, utterly confused _Harry?_ on the other hand.

“Is the city crumbling?” Harry asks.

A beat. Cisco hears Barry murmur _no_.

“Bye Allen.”

With that, Harry lets Cisco’s phone fall to the floor. Cisco grins when he hears it thump. Gripping Harry’s shirt, Cisco urges him back to his side, into Cisco’s space, and kisses him, unhurried and deep.


End file.
